


Lose Control

by satanic_horsemen



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Death, Depression, Everyone Is Gay, How Do I Tag, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7866790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_horsemen/pseuds/satanic_horsemen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Müller had always been the sunshine in the rain, the calm after the storm. But no one knew his real story. No one knew what he had done. Well, no one close to him at least.</p>
<p>He didn't want to think about that day, but not thinking about it made it even harder. It was the day that everything had started, the day that had ruined his life. </p>
<p>He was suffering from depression, and there was no one that could ever heal the eternal sadness that was stuck within his system. </p>
<p>Robert Lewandowski, his mainstay, knew that there was something going on with Thomas. He wanted to help him as much as he possibly could, but there was no saving Thomas. He would never be the same again. </p>
<p>Or was there still a chance that Robert would be able to save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lose Control

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first time posting a fanfiction on Archive of Our Own. This story is also available on Wattpad, under the sme title and written by the same author (as I'm active on both) I hope you enjoy this:)

_**November 29th** _

He slowly walked across the busy streets of London, making his way toward the bar in which he was about to drink with one of his best friends. For some odd reason, he was a bit nervous. It wasn't because he felt something for him, of course. He wasn't attracted to men. But for some reason he felt as if he was about to screw something up.

He was only a few metres away from the bar, and he went in silently before letting out a sigh. A lot of people were sitting in that very bar, curious about who had come in. He avoided eye contact with any of them, though; he didn't like attention of that kind.

Soon he saw his friend sitting at one of the tables, drinking beer. He walked toward him and sat down after greeting him.

"Hey, Robert. You're late," his friend said jokingly.

Robert rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he said. "Traffic was a bitch."

His friend nodded. "I can imagine," he said looking outside. "It seems crammed out there."

"It does. Anyway, how are you, Thomas?" Robert asked, receiving a glance from him.

"Could be better," Thomas answered before sipping some of his beer. He didn't look affected by the alcohol at all, as if he had gotten used to it. "Fight with a friend."

Robert questioned which friend he was talking about, but decided not to ask. "How come?"

The bartender came to their table, asking Robert what he wanted to drink. Robert said that he would like some beer as well and then the bartender left after smiling at the two of them.

"I told Mario that I know he's in love with Marco," Thomas began. "It wasn't my best idea."

"How did Mario respond?" Robert asked, ignoring the last part of Thomas' story. "He got angry right away. He told me that that was none of my business and that I needed to get my shit together before judging him." Thomas shrugged. "I guess he's right though."

Robert looked at Thomas, seeing that it had actually hurt him even though he didn't act like that.

"Well, we all know that Mario is in love with Marco. It's obvious." He paused for a moment, waiting for an answer that wouldn't come. In that short amount of time he realised that Thomas said that he needed to 'get his shit together'. What did he mean by that?

"Thomas," he said.

"Mmm?" Thomas answered, not looking up. He was staring at his bottle of beer, pouring some of it into his glass.

"What did you mean by getting your shit together?"

Now Thomas looked up, but when he saw that Robert had concern on his face, he broke the eye contact again.

"Oh, nothing," he said. "Just family stuff."

"Ah, okay." Robert didn't exactly know what else to say. He sighed. "If you want to talk about it--"

"I know," Thomas cut him off. "Thanks." He smiled a bit, but it was a sad smile. And what Robert hated most out of all things were sad smiles.

"Thomas, this was supposed to be fun, right? I'm not waiting for someone this sad. I'm not in the mood." His words were harsh, but he didn't intend them to be that way.

"Well, depression can't just magically go away, can it?" Thomas said whilst looking up. Yet when he was done saying those words, he immediately looked down again, knowing that he shouldn't have said that.

Robert was more than shocked by what he'd said. He just thought that the sadness would go away in a day or two... But depression wouldn't even come up in his darkest thoughts. Depression was huge, and it couldn't just go away within a day or a week. The person who was depressed would need a lot of time to heal, and this time it was his best friend.

"Y-you're depressed?" Robert asked. Although he already knew the answer, it seemed as if he wanted some kind of confirmation anyway, hoping that it was all but true.

Thomas nodded, not daring to speak. It was as though he couldn't afford disappointing another close friend, as he was afraid they would all hate him and leave him alone, without anyone to talk to nor love.

"Thomas?" Robert said, making Thomas jump out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" he replied softly, again not looking up. "

"I'm sorry" were the words the older man spoke. "No one deserves that." He waited for Thomas to look up and tell him that it was all a joke, but he didn't. The other kept staring at the ground, unaware of what Robert had just said.

Thomas wanted to look up, though, but was too afraid to do so. So many thoughts haunted his mind of how Robert would hate him if he told him the entire truth, how the depression had even started. He wanted to tell him, he wanted to share everything with him, but he couldn't. He was too weak.

"Thomas, please say something." That was when Thomas looked up, hearing the hurt in his friend's voice. He could see that Robert's eyes were moistened by tears of unwanted agony. Thomas hated seeing him like this, knowing that it was his fault. All he could do in life was hurt people, without even wanting to. He was a wastrel that needed to vanish off the earth.

It was then that Thomas finally said something, so soft that he doubted whether Robert would be able to hear it.

"I need to go." He stood up, attempting to leave. Yet for some reason he stood still, his feet frozen unto the ground. He wasn't able to move at all, as if he was petrified.

Robert had grabbed his arm, making it impossible for Thomas to leave. The younger man didn't know how it could affect him like that.

"Please stay," Robert suddenly said. "I can't let you leave."

Thomas nodded, and Robert let go. The blond sat down onto his chair again after letting out a soft sigh, even though he wanted to be alone.

"Please talk to me," Robert begged. "You're my best friend."

"That's a lie," Thomas whispered. When Robert didn't respond, he continued, "you're a liar."

"Why would you say something like that?" Now he seemed upset, angry even.

Thomas knew that it was his fault. He knew that Robert would abandon him like everyone else would. It would only be a matter of time before he'd be all alone. He knew that it was going to happen.

He again didn't respond, not knowing what to say nor what to do. It seemed as though all he could do was sit and wait until Robert would get up and leave him.

"I'm sorry," Robert said. "I shouldn't have said it like that." He paused for a moment, seeing that Thomas was not going to reply. "I really care about you, and I want to do everything I can to make you feel better."

Thomas looked up again. He fiercely wanted the words to be true, yet he didn't know whether he could believe Robert. The permanent feeling of misery was the worst thing he had ever endured and he didn't know if it would ever stop.

"I promise," Robert whispered carefully, hoping that Thomas wouldn't yell at him.

Hearing Robert being as vulnerable as he was, Thomas began to speak, "R-really?" he whispered. "Really," the other answered, letting out a sigh of relief for Thomas had finally responded. Robert wasn't the only one to sigh out of relief; Thomas did as well.

"Can I do anything to make you feel better?" Robert asked, knowing that there was nothing he could do that would make the depression go away, but he could reduce it a little.

"Don't leave me," Thomas answered, feeling tears form in his pale blue eyes.

Robert was genuinely touched by his words. He didn't hesitate grabbing the other's hand. "I would never leave you, Thomas. Don't worry," he said trying to smile a bit. Robert decided that it would perhaps be better if they would go elsewhere, somewhere less crowded. He stood up, Thomas' hand still in his, making Thomas stand up as well.

"What are you doing?" Thomas asked, shivering a bit.

"We're going some place else," the other answered.

The two of them walked out of the bar, not losing the body contact they had by their hands being woven into each other. Robert walked and Thomas obeyed by following him.

They didn't speak whilst walking for what seemed like eternity. Thomas would occasionally feel extremely uncomfortable by all the people looking at him. He began to sweat a bit. Robert sensed that Thomas wasn't feeling good thus he walked faster, knowing exactly where to go.

Thomas admired Robert. Although he would never admit that to him. He admired the way that Robert was always calm and caring. He admired the way that Robert was always in for an adventure and that he would do everything to make his friends feel good. He was always in for a laugh, but was serious when he needed to be. That was what Thomas loved most about him.

"Are you all right?" Robert asked suddenly, making Thomas bounce a little.

"Yeah," he lied. He wasn't okay at all, and he was certain that Robert knew that.

For the first time since they'd walked out of the bar, Thomas paid attention to his surroundings. He didn't recognise the place, let alone know where they were. He looked at Robert for a moment, realising that Robert knew exactly where they were, getting that information by the determination that was shown in his eyes. Thus Thomas decided not to ask.

From that moment on it didn't take that long before Robert stopped at a place called "MN's Therapy". The building was white of colour, not too big but not small at all. It looked a bit old and it could definitely use renovation. Yet for some reason it felt safe.

Thomas knew immediately what was going on; Robert wanted him to see a therapist. He wasn't a moron, of course he had tried therapy but it didn't work.

"Robert..." he said, looking at the other, feeling slightly betrayed for some reason.

"Thomas, I know this guy. He's really good. Just give him a chance," Robert begged. Although Thomas wanted to say no desperately, he didn't do it. Another sign of weakness.

The two of them went into the building. It looked a lot better on the inside than it did on the outside. It was still white, but it looked more professional for some odd reason. A man was sitting behind a brown desk, greeting them. He had blond hair and kind green eyes. He looked really nice, but everyone knew that appearances were nothing but an illusion.

"Good day, Robert," the man suddenly said. Robert nodded at him, giving him a small smile.

Thomas questioned how he could know Robert. Perhaps they were friends or something like that. Although Thomas knew that it was absurd to think so, he still didn't lose the possibility of Robert going to a therapist. Thomas shook his head, that'd be crazy. Robert always seemed happy.

"Good morning, Bastian," Robert told the man. "Is Manuel here today?"

"Yeah, same door as always," Bastian answered smiling. He then looked at Thomas. "Who's this?"

"A friend." Robert paused for a moment. "He needs some help." Thomas was quite surprised by the choice of words. Robert said it as though Thomas was some kind of psychopath, and he didn't like it.

"Okay," Bastian said. "Manuel is alone now so you can go to him. You're lucky that I know you so well, mister Lewandowski. Otherwise I would've sent you away and you would have to make an appointment first." It was meant as a joke but it was obvious that Robert couldn't smile about it.

In here it seemed as if Robert was a completely different person. The happiness and joy that were once his had disappeared. Robert started to walk away, intending that Thomas should follow him.

They continued walking until they arrived at a white door. Robert knocked on it.

"Yes?" the man on the other side spoke.

"It's Robert."

"Ah, come in, Robert." Robert opened the door, and walked in. Thomas looked inside, seeing a man around thirty years old sitting in a brown leather chair, a notebook placed in his pale hands. He looked at Robert, and then at Thomas.

"You brought a friend?" the man asked.

Robert nodded. "This is Thomas Müller, Manuel. He, uhh--" He paused, not knowing what to say. In the meantime, Thomas had hidden himself behind Robert, as he couldn't handle new people well.

"Thomas," Robert said, making Thomas look up again.

"Yeah?"

"Come in." It was the therapist who spoke this time. All Thomas wanted was to run away, but for the first time in a long time he stayed where he stood because he knew that it was the right thing to do. It made him feel slightly less miserable but it hardly even made a difference.

Thomas sauntered into the room, seeing that Robert wanted him to sit next to him, and so he did. Robert was the only one that he trusted, and he wanted to stay away from the other man.

"My name is Manuel Neuer," the man said holding out his hand, waiting for Thomas to grab it. It took a while and a lot of hesitation before he finally did, and then Manuel continued, "I'm a therapist as you probably already knew. I'm a good friend of Robert's. We've known each other for... I think for five years now." Seeing that Thomas wasn't going to respond, he continued, "But that doesn't matter. You're here because you think I can help you with something, right?"

"No," he said, sighing. "I'm here because Robert dragged me into this place without informing me."

Robert rolled his eyes, and looked at Thomas. "I did it because I know that he can help you, Thomas. Don't be stubborn."

Thomas wanted to fire something back but he knew that it would be useless. Thus he muttered a soft "fine", and Manuel continued once again.

"Can you tell me why you're here?" he asked.

"I'm suffering from depression," Thomas told him without showing any emotion whatsoever.

Manuel looked at Robert as if he too wanted some kind of confirmation. When Robert nodded, Manuel nodded as well.

"Can you tell me how it started?" He paused for a moment, neither of the other two knowing why.

"I need to know that because I want to make sure that I can help you, Thomas." Thomas nodded, and looked at Robert, who was gazing at him. "I-I need some privacy," he whispered.

Manuel glanced at Robert as well, seeing that Thomas' words had hurt him. "Robert," he whispered. "Listen to him."

Robert let out a large sigh and then stood up, walking out of the room slowly. He was the one feeling slightly betrayed now, but he knew that it was okay if it helped Thomas.

On the other side of the door, meanwhile, Manuel began to speak again, repeating the question he had asked earlier.

"How did your depression start?"

Thomas let out a huge sigh before starting his story, as if it would help him. "It all started July 13th this year. Me and some friends went to drink at a bar called The Black Sparrow, which is in Glasgow - we were on vacation. My friends got really drunk but I didn't want to because the last time I got drunk, I couldn't remember what had happened. I... I felt miserable. I drank anyway, I don't know why; I was being an idiot. The next day one of my friends called me, saying that I had--" He paused, as if he couldn't finish his sentence which was more than true; it was the worst day in his entire life.

"It's okay, Thomas. You can tell me," Manuel reassured him.

"My friend got hit by a car," Thomas continued, looking into the void with no emotion in his voice. Yet when he said the following words, he couldn't help but cry. "And it was all my fault."

Every single memory he had from that day... it all came back. The guilt he had tried to push away for such a long time came back in only a sole second. He thought he couldn't feel more miserable, but nothing was less true. It was as if everything inside of him was falling into an uncountable amount of emotional pieces. He didn't know how to put them together anymore.

Manuel handed him a glass of water which Thomas drank steadily. "Can I ask you something, Thomas?" he asked.

All Thomas wanted was to go. To sleep and never wake up again. It wasn't like anyone would care about him disappearing; everyone would go on with their lives the second after Thomas would go. He knew that for sure.

Even though Thomas didn't give Manuel an answer, he asked his question anyway. "How did it happen? How did your friend get hit by a car? Did one of your other friends tell you something about it?"

Thomas nodded slowly, still looking at the ground and still crying. "One of m-my other friends, Jérôme... He said that I pushed him in front of the car." He didn't speak for a while after that, because the images came back again.

He still remembered the day when Jérôme had called him. He said that Thomas was being awful and mean that night, thinking that he was being funny. Jérôme began to scream at him suddenly and told him that he was the worst person he'd ever met. He yelled that it was his fault that David was hit by a car and that it wasn't guaranteed he would survive.

And he didn't survive. Thomas still remembered the day when he was sitting next to his bed in hospital - after a long, heated discussion with Jérôme about whether it was a good idea to let Thomas in.

Thomas had talked to David, knowing that he wouldn't respond. Although David was unconscious, Thomas still hoped that he would show some form of contact, because Thomas wanted forgiveness. He knew he had screwed up and he knew that if he died it would be his fault.

"I'm so sorry about everything, David," he had said. "I know that you're probably not going to respond. And if you did, you would probably scream at me and tell me to go away. But I have to tell you this, David. I'll never be able to forgive myself if you die. I fucked up. I know that. I'd understand if you will all hate me." He had paused after those words to take a large sigh, inhaling and exhaling the hospital air slowly a couple times.

"Please wake up, David," he had cried. "Don't leave me here. Just- just wake up. Come on. You can't leave me." Suddenly David began to breathe more irregularly, a concern to Thomas. "David?" he had asked. He didn't respond, like always.

"David? David, what's going on?"

Then the doctors came in, David's chest going up and down very fast. They had asked Thomas to wait outside, and he knew that it was about to be over. David was about to die. He couldn't move at that moment, he just kept staring at David, whom was looking worse than ever.

He had whispered David's name before he heard the worse sound in his life. The beeps of the heart monitor didn't have any pauses anymore. Only a long beep with no pauses, indicating that David had stopped breathing. He would never wake up again. His chest had stopped moving, his face looking pale despite the permanent dark colour.

"Sir, we need to ask you to leave," one of the doctors told Thomas. "I'm so sorry for your loss." When Thomas again didn't move - still staring at his friend's body -, one of the doctors dragged him out of the room.

He hadn't been able to speak for a long time. A lot of people had tried to talk to him, or make him talk to them but it didn't work. He was lost in his own thoughts of how he had killed his friend. He was a murderer.

"Thomas?" Suddenly he was aware of where he was. He looked up, looking into the face of a concerned Manuel Neuer, the therapist.

"Are you all right?" Manuel asked him.

Thomas felt the same as he did when he was in hospital, just after David had stopped breathing. He couldn't speak nor move. He felt miserable, as if being trapped inside his own body, but not being able to control himself nor his actions.

So when Thomas again didn't respond, Manuel stood up and opened the door. He said some things that Thomas couldn't quite hear, but he knew that the words weren't aimed at him. They were aimed at Robert.

Suddenly Robert sat in front of him, sitting on the chair Manuel had just sat on. He looked at him in concern, trying to find some kind of vividness inside Thomas.

All Thomas wanted, however, was to talk to Robert. About nothing in particular, just to talk in order to calm his mind a bit. He wanted Robert's reassuring smile, saying that it would all be okay. But none of that came, and he still didn't have control.

"Thomas, are you okay?" Robert asked him. The little control he had came back all of a sudden when Robert grabbed his hand. Thomas looked into Robert's pale blue eyes and made an attempt to nod.

He couldn't know if he had succeeded, though, for he was too lost in the other man's eyes.

"I'm okay," he whispered then. It wasn't true, but seeing Robert was all he wanted.

Robert gave Thomas a small smile, the smile that Thomas desperately wanted to have. "Do you want to go?" Robert asked, knowing it wouldn't be a good idea if he asked him what had happened.

Thomas nodded again, now knowing for sure that Robert had seen it as he stood up, Thomas' hand still in his just like earlier.

"We'll come back another time maybe," Robert told Manuel.

He nodded. "Take care of him," he whispered to Robert, as if he genuinely was concerned about Thomas.

"I will. Bye, Manuel."

"Bye, Robert."

They then walked out of the room together. Thomas didn't speak and neither did Robert.

All Thomas could think about was how he had killed his friend and that Robert would hate him if he found out.

"Should I drop you off at your house?" Robert suddenly asked.

Thomas glanced at Robert's face, more pale in the bright sun. "S-sure," Thomas replied softly, embracing the fact that Robert was being nice to him now.

Thomas knew that Robert would eventually find out, and that he would hate him. "I'm sorry," he suddenly whispered.

Robert let go of his hand, making Thomas lose the reassuring feeling Robert had gave him. "About what?" he spoke, standing still.

Thomas didn't know what to say to him, nor what to do. He'd screwed up once again. It was the only thing he excelled in. All he could do was screw up and ruin people's lives.

"Thomas, you should really talk to me," Robert said, more serious than before.

"About how I keep fucking everything up?" Thomas didn't know where the courage of saying these words came from, leaving both of them surprised. Perhaps the piece inside him that wanted to make him feel even more miserable gave him this courage in order to make Robert hate him.

"What do you mean?" Robert asked, still not moving a single muscle.

"Don't act like a fool, Robert," Thomas stated. He didn't want to say these words. He still didn't have control.

"Thomas, I know you. You don't fuck everyth--" Robert tried to say, but the moron inside of Thomas cut him off.

"No, you don't know me! You don't know what I've done!" he yelled. People walking through the streets - thinking that they themselves would have a nice day out - were looking at the two men now. Thomas felt uncomfortable, and he knew that Robert did as well.

Robert sighed, "I don't know what you've done." He paused for a moment, gazing at the other. His eyes were full of hurt and fear, but Robert didn't know why. "And you don't even have to tell me. But I want you to know that it won't affect me, because I know who you are now. I know that you wouldn't do anything to hurt someone else. So I wouldn't leave you alone."

Thomas was scared. He didn't want Robert to say things like that because he couldn't say whether it was true or not. He wanted it to be true, though, just like he wanted Robert to stay with him.

"Can you drop me off at home?" Thomas whispered, looking at the ground. He figured that the people must've gone away from them again.

"Y-yeah, of course," the other man answered, slightly disappointed because he had said something that he actually meant, and Thomas didn't respond to that. He began to walk again - this time he was following Thomas as he had already begun walking - and stepped into his car which wasn't that far away. It was a black Range Rover Evoque, which he'd had for a few years now. He had gotten rather attached to it, because taking a drive calmed him down in a way no one else could.

Thomas had sat down as well, waiting for Robert to start the car, which he did after a few seconds.

"Music?" he asked softly. Thomas nodded, and Robert put on the radio. It was playing "What If" by Coldplay.

_What if you should decide_

_That you don't want me there by your side_

_That you don't want me there in your life_

Thomas couldn't help but think about the words Chris Martin - the singer of Coldplay - had sung. All he could think of was how Robert would decide to leave him alone because Thomas was a screwed up person.

"Thomas," Robert suddenly said, flipping Thomas out of his thoughts. Thomas looked at him, indicating that Robert could go on.

"Are you ready to talk to me about it?" he asked. Thomas stopped looking at him and stared out of the window. That was enough of an answer for Robert.

"Don't worry, it's okay," he tried to reassure him. "I won't judge. I--"

"I don't want to have this conversation again, okay?" Thomas said, still looking out of the window.

"Okay," the other responded softly.

Thomas saw all kinds of people walking through the cramped streets. Women, men, children varying in height and complexion. Only one stood out to Thomas, however. A boy of around sixteen years old sitting on the ground, head placed in his pale hands. Thomas wanted to know what was going on with him but he knew that he couldn't just step out of the car.

He decided to let it rest for now.

They were almost at his house, Thomas could already see the recently renovated house that he'd bought on his own a few months ago.

Robert stopped the car when they were there, and looked at Thomas one last time - whom was determined to avoid eye contact - and then stepped out of the car, which Thomas did after a while too.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Robert asked.

Thomas shook his head. "N-no, but thanks for dropping me off," he whispered. He wanted to be alone, to think.

"Tom, I don't think it'll be a good idea if you go in by yourself." Thomas sighed, "I'm fine," he lied. "Don't worry."

Robert didn't seem to believe him. "Thomas, you know that I want to do anything I can to help you, right?" he claimed.

Thomas began to feel dizzy. "I-I just want to be alone." Disappointed in himself, he turned around, making an attempt to go into his house by himself. He may have tripped but he couldn't know for sure.

And then Robert grabbed his hand again. Thomas hated it when he did that but he loved it so much at the same time. Although Thomas expected Robert to say something like, "I'm coming in with you" or, "I'm not leaving you alone", he said something completely different.

"Call me when something's wrong okay?"

For some reason, Thomas didn't like that he had said that. One part of him wanted Robert to stay with him but another part screamed inside him that he needed to be alone, making him want to rip his ears off.

"I will," Thomas said. "Bye."

"Take care, Thomas." Then he stepped into his car after losing grip of Thomas' hand.

Suddenly, Thomas felt cold again. He watched Robert leave and then went into his house.

It was lonelier than usual. Even though he had struggled with his permanent feeling of sadness for a long time, it hadn't been as bad as it was right now.

Thomas closed his eyes and breathed in the not too stuffy air that was lingering in the hallway of his house. He looked at his feet after a few seconds of utter calmness. He saw a letter which he hadn't seen before, resting on the ground for what seemed like a couple hours.

He picked it up and saw that his name was written on the envelope with a quite sloppy handwriting he recognised somehow, but he couldn't quite place it.

He took it into the living room where he sat down on his brown leather couch, pieces of left crisps still lying on it, standing out because of the fact that the colours seemed vivid, something Thomas wasn't.

The person who had written to him must've had quite a bit to tell, as the note was full of words.

_Dear Thomas_ , stood there.

_You're thinking that someone actually wrote you something because they care about you, aren't you? Well, you couldn't be more wrong._

_This letter is about telling you that you're a wastrel who should leave and never come back._

_You're going to hell._

Thomas should've stopped reading after that, reading the rest of the letter was a mistake he never should've made. But he read on anyway.

_First off, you're extremely stupid and dumb. You actually think that people care about you when they don't. You actually think that you can bother them with your stupid problems? No one likes you. And no, neither does Robert. Everything Robert says to you is just a lie, an illusion. He'll leave you. He'll leave you like everyone would if they knew you._

_You're pathetic, Thomas. You should have never even been born. You're a disgrace to this world. You're even worse than everything that's going on in the world right now. You're worse than the most lethal disease. You kill people by just being near them._

_Oh, and let's not forget the fact that you keep believing that there'll be someone that'll like you. But deep inside I know that you know no one will ever like you. Everyone hates you, and that's good. You should be suffering. No one likes to see you happy, no one likes to see you at all._

_Leave._

_Now._

_Never come back._

_I'm not talking about moving away, as you've probably already noticed. No, you know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you, Thomas?_

_Don't bother telling Robert. He wouldn't care anyway._

_I hope you'll suffer more in hell._

Thomas was crying, but he knew that the words were true. He could basically hear the writer of this letter laugh in satisfaction. The letter had stopped, there was no name that would let him know who had taunted him even more.

He closed his eyes, a thousand tears disappearing from his eyes. He was shivering from the agony, knowing that it wouldn't go away.

He was crying, but no sound was emerging from his mouth. He couldn't hear anything, he could only hear words that cut through him like a recently sharpened knife.

_No one would care if you die._

Thomas knew that it was true. He knew that Robert was lying to him, as was Manuel and every other person that had ever been nice to him.

He opened his eyes again, realising that there was no letter in his hands anymore. No envelope lay on the couch next to him where it had once lain. It was never there, but that didn't change Thomas' feelings. He knew that every single word that was written in that hallucinated letter was true. Nothing would change the fact that he knew he had to leave.

Suddenly his mobile phone rang, which was in his right pocket of his jeans. He looked at the screen, seeing the name: Robert Lewandowski. It was the name of the person he didn't want to talk to at all, but he picked up anyway, not knowing why.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice still raw and broken from the soundless crying.

"It's Robert. Are you okay?" Robert told him. His voice sounded so kind, but Thomas knew it was all a lie. He got angry thinking about it.

"Fine," he muttered. As much as he tried, as much as he wanted to be strong, his mask of confidence lowered in no time. All that was left was someone broken, someone who couldn't be fixed.

"Thomas? Are you sure you're all right?" Robert sounded concerned, and Thomas began to cry.

"Thomas? Thomas, what's going on?" Thomas didn't answer him. He stood up, his phone still in his left hand touching his ear, and walked to the kitchen.

It had all become too much. Every single part inside his fragile body told him he was worthless. What would the world be without him, he thought. Better. Everyone would be much better off without the burden called Thomas Müller.

He grabbed one of the knives out of knife holder and looked at it with care. He looked at it for a while, eyes locked with the sharp silver.

"Thomas? I'm coming to your house right now," Robert said, sounding more determined than ever.

"There'll be no need," Thomas answered softly. He ended the call with a shivering hand, and placed the phone onto the countertop.

He looked at the inviting knife once again, giving it a small smile. That was his destiny. He knew that he was about to do the right thing for once, making amends for everything he had ever done, for being alive, for having the privilege to breathe in the same air as everyone else.

He placed the knife on one of his wrists and slowly moved it along his skin. He could see the blood that was once running through his veins, keeping him alive, beginning to flow down his hands, falling onto the ground softly, but he didn't feel any pain.

He first looked at the blood for a while, feeling some sort of satisfaction which he had never felt before. He then placed the knife in the hand which was stuck on the maimed wrist, putting the knife onto his other wrist.

_You're finally doing the right thing, Thomas._

He cut his wrist, blood flowing out of this one as well. It didn't hurt, just like it didn't before. He didn't feel anything. He didn't hear anything.

He could feel his body fading away into a soft numbness. The voices in his head had stopped tormenting him. He could see the darkness greeting him. A smile was placed on his face. He was finally redeemed.

Feeling the last little piece of air that was in his lungs being sucked out, his vision went black.

_**Five years later** _

The feet of Robert Lewandowski were placed on soft brown earth step by step. He inhaled the air of late autumn with every step he took with his left foot, and exhaled it with every step he took with his right foot.

It was quite a rainy and melancholic day. Dark clouds lying as a blanket in the sky, waiting for the drops of water to emerge onto the ground. It was as if the sky knew what day it was, what had happened five years ago.

He looked up, not daring to make any sound. The sounds of nature calmed him, the only thing that was able to calm him down after that horrifying day, November 29th.

It was now five years later, and Robert still hadn't stopped feeling miserable about what had occurred. He still hadn't moved on.

With a shivering body from not only the cold, but also fear, he stepped over a tree that had fallen onto the ground, just like Thomas had done.

He hadn't visited him since the funeral. He hated feeling so vulnerable whilst thinking about Thomas. He hated that he wasn't with him anymore. Thomas wasn't there to make him laugh when he cried, to calm him down when he was upset. He had to do it all alone now, but it was too hard.

Although he hadn't gone to him in five years, he still remembered exactly where Thomas lay. He couldn't forget the surroundings of the stone that was made just for him.

He could see the tombstone now, observing the cold grey. He could vaguely see the words that were authored onto it.

Robert had a note stuck inside his fragile hand, words inside of it that he wanted to give Thomas. But he wouldn't give anything in return.

Sitting down, he closed his eyes, feeling the tears flow down his skin for the millionth time. He opened the note, a small but emotional tear moistening the paper.

"Thomas," he began, sobbing intensely. He crumpled the note. Even five years later he still couldn't do it.

People had asked him whether he had visited Thomas. Robert would always walk away because talking about Thomas made his heart ache. But now it was exactly five years after Thomas decided to fly and never come down. Robert knew that he needed to actually talk to him, even though it was going to hurt him.

But how could he possibly be more hurt than he already was?

"Thomas," he repeated. "It-it's been five years now..." He paused for a moment, coughing as the tears flowed into his mouth. "...and you still haven't come back." After those words, he began to breathe heavily and the crying got worse. It took quite a while before he had regained control of his breathing. He looked up at the paper again, still shivering.

"I-I just wanted to t-tell you that even though I-I haven't talked to you, I haven't visited y-you, doesn't mean I have f-forgotten about you." He smiled, noticing it was a sad smile. He was now someone that hated himself. He imagined how Thomas must've felt all this time.

He kept staring at the tombstone, without saying any word nor moving any muscle. He thought of all the time he and Thomas had spent together. All the fun they had had. None of that would ever happen anymore.

"I guess I was just denying the fact that you're gone, Tom, and that you're never coming back. But the thing is..." He sighed deeply, as if the words were too hard to speak. "I care about you, I still do. After all the time that I've known you I haven't realised until now that..."

He looked at the note, as though checking whether the words he was about to say were right. "I love you, Thomas," he explained. "I love you and I can't live without you."

Those last words reminded him of the agonising funeral. He still knew his own speech by heart, even five years later he still did.

"Dear Thomas," he had said at the funeral. "I can't believe that you're actually gone. I can't believe that I never had the chance to say goodbye." He had paused for a moment, taking a look at the people that were sitting there in the large room, most of them crying and some of them on the edge of losing the battle against sadness.

Mario and Marco were there, feeling terrible about fighting with Thomas. The last thing Mario had told Thomas was: 'fuck you'. Robert could see that he regretted it, and that he missed his friend.

Manuel was there too, along with Bastian. They were mainly there to support Robert as they didn't know Thomas as well as he did.

Looking at the coffin, Robert had continued, "I don't think I'll ever move on, Thomas. You were my best friend, my mainstay. You were the one I could always laugh with. You were the one that would let me cry when I needed to." He'd paused again, still nervous about talking in front of so many people.

"D-do you remember the time when you and I went fishing together?" Robert had felt uncomfortable talking to a coffin, not even seeing his friend, only a photograph of how he used to be before the depression started, happy and full of life. "Because I do. It was a very sunny day, about thirty-one degrees Celsius. God, you hated warm weather. You'd always complain about being sweaty and I'd always laugh. So as a joke, when you told me it was too warm for the millionth time, I pushed you into the water." Robert could see that some of the people Thomas was close to were sad-smiling.

"You laughed, like you always did. I wanted to give you my hand, to pull you back onto the boat again, out of mercy. I should've known that you were going to pull me in. And of course, you did." He'd sighed, thinking about the memory of one of the best days in his life.

"And now we'll never laugh together again. We'll never have fun again. We'll never be together again. Why does the world have to be so cruel? Why did the world allow you to feel so miserable? What did you ever do to intentionally hurt someone?" He'd looked at the dark brown wooden coffin, not receiving a long-wanted answer.

Sighing, he had continued, "I want to thank you for everything you've done to make my life better, Thomas. I'll never be able to repent for that."

Robert didn't want to think about that memory anymore. He couldn't let it hurt him more. He couldn't relive that horrid moment that had killed the spark inside him.

He looked at the stone again, now reading the letters out loud.

"Here lies Thomas Müller, beloved son and friend. We will never forget you. September thirteenth 1989, November twenty-ninth 2016."

He didn't choose those words. He didn't like them at all. Those were words that were written on almost every tombstone, there was nothing personal about it. Robert would've preferred something like:

_We lost our calm, and now all that is left is the storm._

_Thomas Müller_

_September 13th 1989 - November 29th 2016_

Thomas's parents didn't want that. But what did they know? They had showed Thomas no affection whatsoever the last years Thomas had lived. And now when he died he was suddenly the best thing that had ever happened to them?

"I regret it so much, you know that? I regret it so much that I haven't told you that I love you. It feels like it's all my fault. Like I should've shown you better that you did have someone that loves you. Because I do."

He almost wanted to stand up and leave because this had gotten too much for him to handle, but he knew that he owed Thomas to stay with him, so he continued, "Mario and Marco are still feeling terrible occasionally that the last thing they did with you was fight, but at least they have moved on. They found something that made them happy and they hold onto that." He placed his hand on the stone, it felt cold, but for some reason it felt safe, as if Thomas was still with him.

"Too bad that I've lost the only thing that made me happy." The tears had moistened the biggest part of his face by now, but Robert couldn't care less. He didn't care whether he looked idiotic. He only cared about Thomas.

"Manuel felt awful after your death. He felt as though he had made you feel even worse when he talked to you in his office. But he too has moved on. It's like everyone's forgotten about the fact that you existed, just like you thought." He wiped away one of the tears.

"I know that that's what you thought. But I'm still here for you. I'm still here and I still remember what kind of person you were."

He had completely gone a different way instead of sticking to the note he worked so hard on, but this felt more genuine than any note could ever make him feel.

"I've tried to be happy the past few years. I really tried. But I thought of you with everything I did, and it wouldn't stop. My mind wouldn't stop tormenting me with our happy memories, with our final moments with each other. My mind wouldn't stop revealing images of how your death had happened. It kept me up at night, it still does. When I close my eyes, all I see is you cutting your wrists, you falling onto the ground and you closing your eyes for the last time in your life." He sobbed between every word he said.

"Can I ask you something, Thomas?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't get an answer in return.

"Are you happy now? Is dying worth it? Did the pain stop?" He sighed when all he heard was the rustling of nature.

"I want to be with you again. Five years of martyrdom is enough." He didn't care if his clothes got dirty by the terra. He lay down, looking at the - still very dark - sky. He felt a droplet of rain falling onto his skin. Although it felt cold, he didn't move or wipe away the gout. He perhaps even liked the feeling of the water moistening his skin.

Everything was so calm and serene. He had poured his heart into the words he had given Thomas, receiving no response in return. He listened to the whiffling with care, trying to observe even the softest sounds available.

"Robert..."

Robert opened his eyes immediately. He looked around, trying to find someone who could've called his name. No one. He figured it must've been the wind, so he closed his eyes again.

"Robert..."

He heard it again, now certain that it hadn't been the wind. He stood up and looked behind some of the trees, thinking that someone might have been tricking him, but no one was there.

"Who's there?" Robert asked, sounding upset as he just wanted his life back.

"It's me." Robert immediately recognised that voice. He would recognise it out of thousands still. He loved the sound of that voice. Even though he hadn't heard it for five years... It still felt natural to him to just be able to hear his voice. He could feel some kind of reassuring warmth, making him smile.

"Thomas?" he asked. It took quite a while before an answer came, and Robert began to be impatient.

"Yeah," he whispered. "It's me."

Robert looked around so many times, but he didn't see him. All he could observe was his voice and although he wanted to see his face more than anything, he was content with only hearing as well.

"Where are you?" he asked softly and with care.

Suddenly, he felt a hand touching his shoulder. It was cold but warm at the same time and it made him flinch. He turned around, but Thomas wasn't there.

"Don't be scared," Thomas whispered. Robert could feel that he was close to him, almost breathing in his ear, but he couldn't see him.

"I'm not scared," Robert said, partly telling himself that he wasn't scared, but in truth he was. He was scared. It was impossible. Thomas wasn't here with him. He was gone, dead. He wasn't coming back. It was all an illusion.

"I know what you're thinking, Lewy," Thomas whispered in his ear. It had been so long since he heard that nickname for the last time. Thomas was the only one who had ever called him that, it was something that they shared together.

Robert knew that he couldn't and shouldn't give in, and he tried with every part inside his body, but being able to hear his voice had given him so much pleasure. He wanted more. He needed more words into his ear, whispered by his lost love.

No.

He needed to stop.

He was making himself crazy. This was all in his head, it was all fake. He closed his eyes fiercely, his face tensed up because he wanted the voice to go away.

He opened them when he thought it had gone away. The woods, in which the graveyard was, was still, tranquil and calm. He was sucked into the beautiful peace inside these woods.

"You can try to deny that I'm here all you want, Robert, but you know that it's real."

He blinked immediately a couple times for some reason, perhaps it was a nervous tick of his. He looked around, seeing nothing but nature and tombstones.

"Get out of my head!" he exclaimed, his hands placed against his head. He began to breathe heavily. The ongoing battle within his mind was too much to handle. The side that said that he needed to let Thomas in fought against the side that screamed it was all a trap. He didn't know what to believe, on which side he stood. Dizziness controlled him. His vision faded, and images of him and Thomas filled his mind.

"Are you all right?"

It wasn't Thomas speaking; Robert knew that for sure. He opened his eyes and looked into the face of a man, around thirty years old. He seemed genuinely concerned about Robert, although he didn't even know him.

Robert was glad that Thomas' tormenting voice was gone, but for some reason something inside him felt empty again, like he had felt the last five years.

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm okay."

The man didn't buy the lie. He looked at the stone, as if he wanted to know who Robert was crying for.

Robert noticed that. "He was my best friend," he began. "I'd rather not tell the rest."

"Don't worry, you don't have to," the man responded. He reached out his hand, "I'm Philipp Lahm."

"Robert Lewandowski," he answered, a croak hiding inside his voice. He cleared his throat.

Philipp was studying him, noticing that he got wet by rain and tears. "Did you walk to the graveyard?" Philipp asked suddenly.

Robert nodded. "Yeah."

"I can give you a ride home if you want to," he answered.

Robert found it a bit odd that a strange man offered him that, but to be honest, he couldn't care less. He didn't care if their car would break down, or if Philipp was actually a murderer in secret, planning to assassinate Robert. All he wanted was to be with Thomas, but there was only one way for that to happen.

"Yeah, sure," Robert answered. Philipp began to walk to his car and Robert soon followed.

It was a grey Jeep Wrangler, a beautiful car to Robert's opinion. The colour grey suited perfectly with the bleak sky, like a match made in heaven.

Philipp started the car, and asked Robert where he lived. When he answered, Philipp nodded, knowing exactly where his house was.

"Do you live together with someone?" he asked him. Now Robert started to feel a bit uncomfortable by the questions Philipp asked and he noticed that.

"Sorry, that was a weird question to ask."

"No, don't worry," Robert answered, smiling. "It's fine. And to answer your question, no, I live alone."

"I don't think it's a good idea that you go in by yourself."

Robert's smile dropped immediately hearing those words. It brought him back to the day Thomas had died, five years ago. Robert had said the exact same words to him, one of his final words to Thomas. He remembered Thomas watching him as he drove away, he remembered the last time he saw him. He remembered his last touch with Thomas, a hand on his arm. He saw the hurt in Thomas' face, inside he knew that Thomas was going to hurt himself and he screwed up. He should've gone in with him. It was his fault that Thomas was dead.

"Robert? Are you okay?" Philipp asked.

Robert looked up, and nodded slowly. "I'm fine, just thinking about him."

"I understand," the man answered. "I know what it feels like to lose someone so close to you. Eight years have passed and I still haven't moved on."

"Who died?" Robert asked, kind of annoyed that Philipp made it about himself but for some reason it felt good to have someone who understood.

"My wife. She died of cancer," he replied, tears forming in his eyes. Robert could see that Philipp didn't want to talk about it as he quickly pushed the tears and feelings away.

"I'm sorry," Robert whispered.

"It's nice to have someone who understands your feelings. It's just weird. When she had just died, my friends and family - and her family as well... They were all devastated. But one year has passed and it seems like they've forgotten about her. They've moved on but I haven't."

Robert was shocked by how Philipp had been through the exact same as he had. "Yeah... That's exactly what happened to me and Thomas. At first the people that were close to him were devastated, but everyone moved on after a while. It's like they've all forgotten about him."

"I know exactly what you're feeling. It's so hard just noticing that the people we loved weren't so important as we thought they were."

Robert sighed, "I know." He paused for a moment, questioning whether what he was about to ask was appropriate. "Would you care to have something to drink with me in my house? I really need someone to talk to."

"I would love to," Philipp answered smiling.

They were at Robert's house in no time, and they both stepped out of the car. Robert grabbed his keys out of his pocket and opened the door. They went in.

"I'm going to put on clean and dry clothes," Robert said. "But first, do you want anything to drink?"

"Let's start off with some water," Philipp answered.

Robert nodded and walked into the kitchen, seeing lots of plates and glasses unwashed; he didn't want to do anything anymore, but now since he met Philipp, things might be a bit better again, because Philipp understood him.

He came back with a glass of water and handed it to Philipp. Then he went upstairs to change. He took off his soaking wet shirt and pants, and changed into a red-coloured t-shirt and black jeans. He looked at himself in the mirror. Robert gasped, as if he just now realised what he looked like. Dark circles around his blue eyes, his cheeks sunken a bit. He questioned how Philipp wasn't shocked by Robert's appearance.

Then he saw something behind him in the mirror. He turned around quickly, but there was no one there. Perhaps it was all in his head...

But then he saw it again. An appearance with dark blond hair and blue eyes. Robert recognised him immediately. He turned around again and saw that Thomas was standing there, a grin on his face.

"Thomas?" Robert asked, still not believing that Thomas was there with him. It gave him a reassuring feeling of sorts, seeing him again after those five years. Yet then he remembered what had happened at the graveyard. He didn't want to be tortured like that again, he couldn't.

"It's me," Thomas answered.

But Robert was weak, and he gave into temptation way too easily. "H-how can you be here?"

"I'm not here. It's happening inside your head, Lewy," he answered and again, that nickname gave him chills, in a good way.

"So it's not real?" Robert asked, feeling disappointed.

"Do you really want me to quote Albus Dumbledore?" Thomas said, his grin transforming into a beautiful smile.

Robert began to laugh, something he hadn't done since Thomas died. He didn't even remember what it felt like until he was with Thomas. It felt beautiful, as if he had never left.

"I miss you," Robert whispered. He suddenly felt something very cold brushing against his hand. He looked at it, and saw that Thomas had folded their hands into each other.

"I miss you too. Please, take care of yourself. You look awful," Thomas answered smiling. And again, that smile made Robert smile as well.

"I will, don't worry." Suddenly Robert's eyes closed, but not under his command. He didn't want to close them. He tried to open his eyes but it didn't work, as if someone had put tape on them.

"Thomas?" he asked, starting to freak out a bit. "Thomas, what's happening?" He suddenly felt someone breathing next to him, just like at the graveyard.

"It's time for you to suffer now." It was Thomas who whispered those words, and suddenly his eyes opened again. He looked around; Thomas was gone.

Glancing at himself in the mirror in shock, he began to breathe heavily. He didn't understand what had just happened. Thomas was being kind to him and all of a sudden he sounded so bitter.

"Robert, are you coming?"

He lost contact with his reflection, and looked up. "Y-yeah, just a minute!" He wiped away the tears he didn't know were there. After that, he went downstairs again.

Philipp saw that Robert was upset and asked, "Are you all right?"

Robert nodded. "Yeah, just--"

"Robert, you can trust me. You can tell me," Philipp ensured him. "I'll be here to talk."

Robert nodded again, sighing. He wanted to tell him about it but he was scared that Philipp would find him weird, now that Robert had finally found someone that understood him.

"I heard him when I was at the graveyard. I didn't see him, but I heard him. He scared me but when I screamed that he needed to get out of my head he did. And then you came." He looked at Philipp first, hoping that he wouldn't freak out and leave him alone. Yet Philipp only nodded, and that was even worse than freaking out to Robert. Now he couldn't tell whether Philipp understood or not.

"And then I saw him, just now, in my bedroom when I was changing. He was nice to me first but then he made me close my eyes and I couldn't open them. I-I could feel his breathing in my neck and then he said: 'It's time for you to suffer now.' He left after that and then you called for me." Robert was determined to avoid eye contact with the other man. He knew that he wouldn't be able to continue when he'd see Philipp's face, an expression that said that Robert was an idiot and should be locked up or something.

Philipp, however, didn't respond to what Robert had just said. "I-I have an idea," he said, and Robert looked up.

"What?"

"Close your eyes," Philipp answered. Robert obeyed him after having an argument inside his head about whether he could trust Philipp or not, but what did he have to lose?

"Good. Now, focus on my voice. Don't think about Thomas or anything else. Just focus on my voice and on what I'm saying." He paused for a moment, as if expecting to receive an answer from Robert. But when Robert was just about to answer, he continued.

"Take a deep breath, Robert." And so he did. "Now open your eyes."

Robert opened them. He didn't know how this could've helped him and it didn't. "And now?" he questioned.

"Don't talk," Philipp interrupted him. "Just listen."

Robert almost wanted to roll his eyes. He began to question whether he liked Philipp. He was being really weird and Robert wasn't waiting for it.

"Robert, I need you to cooperate, okay? I can't help you if you're not open to it."

"Fine," he muttered. He sighed again. "Good. Now, I want you to picture him in your thoughts. Not the Thomas that you just saw, but the Thomas you knew and loved."

"How do you know I love him?" Robert asked, without obeying his requests.

"Robert, please listen to me. Do as I say," Philipp sighed.

"No, I want an answer."

"Robert--"

"Philipp, if you don't give me an answer right now you can leave." He was angry, but who could blame him?

"Okay, fine!" Philipp exclaimed. "I heard you talking to him. I heard you saying that you were in love with him."

"So you were eavesdropping?" Robert asked.

"Maybe, I don't know. But I'm sorry for it, it was rude and inappropriate."

"Fine," Robert muttered again, the same tone in his voice as before, the same emotion. He didn't want to do this thing that Philipp was doing. He wanted to be with Thomas.

"Can we continue?" Philipp asked him.

"I don't know, I don't believe in this stuff."

"In what stuff? Look, Robert, you can pity yourself all you want but it won't bring you any further in life. You know why you haven't moved on? Because you keep drowning in self-pity and sadness. That's not what makes you happy, is it? You need to man up, otherwise you'll never be happy again."

Robert knew that it was true, but he didn't want it to be. "Maybe I don't want to be happy again."

"Well, then I'm going to leave. I'm not in the mood for someone like this." He stood up. "Goodbye, Robert."

"Fine, leave. I thought we understood each other. I thought we were alike. But I was wrong, you're just like everyone else. You forget the ones you've lost and just move on. Be my guest if you want to be like that, but I don't." Robert looked at Philipp, whom was clearly debating in his head whether he should leave.

"Look, Robert..." Philipp began, but Robert cut him off.

"Are you going to stay or leave?" he asked, eyes pale of determination.

"I'm going to stay," Philipp said sighing, as if it was one of the hardest things he had ever said.

"Great," Robert said. He paused for a moment after his sarcastic words. Looking at Philipp, he apologised, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry as well," Philipp answered smiling. He sat down. "Can we continue with what I was doing?"

"Yeah," Robert said, unsure if he really wanted to but what harm could it bring after all?

"Okay, I want you to picture the Thomas you knew before he died. The happy Thomas."

Robert closed his head and tried to think about the Thomas he knew before all the horrible things happened. It took a while and a lot of power, but it worked. He thought of Thomas dancing in the rain because he loved it. Robert smiled thinking about it. "And now?"

"Now I want you to open your eyes with _that_ Thomas in your mind," Philipp answered.

Robert opened his eyes, still thinking about the happy Thomas. He was calm at first, but then he saw something moving behind Philipp. Robert stood up immediately and saw him again. He recoiled instantly and sat down on his chair in fear.

"You're seeing him again, aren't you?" Philipp asked, seeming highly interested.

Robert could only nod. He could see that Thomas was standing up from the ground where he had sat when Robert saw him. He walked toward him, a devilish grin on his face.

"Robert, think about the happy Thomas," Philipp asked in warn. "Don't think about this one."

"I-I can't," he whimpered. Thomas was really close to him now, and grabbed his arm. Pinching it as the blood flowed, Robert closed his eyes in pain. "Stop, please."

He could still hear Philipp's screams vaguely of how he needed to think about the happy Thomas, but he didn't listen to them. He was focused on Thomas only.

"Why are you doing this?" Robert cried.

Thomas placed his hand - his fingers were full of Robert's blood - on Robert's cheek. "Because I'm not at peace up here."

Robert felt his own blood sticking to his face. "But that's not my fault!"

Thomas smirked. "Of course it isn't."

Suddenly he could feel someone shaking him. Robert looked at Philipp who was sitting in front of him, concerned. Thomas was gone.

"What happened?" Philipp asked. Robert looked at his arm. There was no blood, no wound. It was all an illusion.

"H-he was here again. He hurt me."

"You should've listened to me," Philipp stated.

"That's not as easy as you might think, Philipp! He hurt me, I was in a trance." He closed his eyes, tears flowing down his face.

"What did he say?" Philipp questioned. "He said that he's haunting me because he hasn't found peace. But what can I do about that?"

Philipp smiled suddenly, as if knowing exactly what was going on and what he had to do, which was surprisingly true. "I know what to do with this situation."

"Wait, Philipp. How did you learn all this?" Robert asked him before Philipp could even tell him what his plan was.

"I've been a therapist since my wife died," was all he had to say.

"Wait, you're a therapist?"

"Yeah, of course I am." Philipp seemed surprised by the fact that Robert didn't know.

"Do you know Manuel Neuer?" Robert asked immediately.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know him. But can we move on?" he said with a bit of annoyance in his voice.

"Yeah, sorry," Robert whispered. "What do I have to do?"

"So you said that he hasn't found peace," Philipp said, and when Robert nodded, he continued, "That means that Thomas wasn't happy here, but is also not happy up there." It seemed as though Philipp knew exactly what he was saying, but Robert didn't understand a word of it.

"Yeah, so?" he asked.

" _So_ , Thomas needs to find peace. And when he's at peace, he will stop tormenting you."

"But Thomas can't just find peace over night." Robert was really confused and Philipp noticed that.

"No, you're going to help him with that," he said, quite proud of himself.

"W-what? How?" was all he could manage to say. Even though he didn't understand, he wanted to do everything to make Thomas happy again.

"Make sure that the next time you see him, you won't be scared. Talk about the fact that Thomas was loved, and still is. Tell him that he doesn't have to be so bitter. Remind him of some of the things you've done together. But promise me, Robert, don't be scared."

"Not being scared isn't that easy. Thomas - well, this Thomas - intimidates me and hurts me. I don't know if I can do that." Robert sighed, and so did Philipp. Although Robert wanted Thomas to be happy, he couldn't step over the fear Thomas had filled him with.

"Then promise me you'll try," Philipp spoke.

"I promise," Robert answered.

Philipp left soon after that. He drank the rest of his water and then stood up, saying that he had an appointment to go to. They said goodbye and then Robert was left alone again.

He wanted to follow Philipp's advice, he really did, but he questioned whether he was strong enough to do it. He loved Thomas, he cared for him and he wanted to do everything to give him the peace he was missing.

He could hear buzzing on the table. He walked toward it and looked at his phone. No one had messaged him, the only thing that Robert could see was his background; a picture of Robert and Thomas. He knew that Thomas was with him. He was the one making his phone buzz when no one had messaged him.

"I know you're here," Robert whispered. "Show yourself." He knew he shouldn't be scared, and he tried hard not to be.

"You got me."

Robert looked up at the whisper. Looking around, he saw Thomas sitting on his couch. He waved at him in an insane kind of way. Robert didn't even recognise him anymore. It was Thomas' appearance, but the person inside was completely different.

He realised that he _needed_   to follow Philipp's advice. He walked toward Thomas, trying not to show his fear, and sat down across him.

"Thomas," he said, stating the obvious.

"Robert," Thomas answered, a smirk on his face.

"Remember when we--" Robert tried to say, but he got cut off by Thomas' laughter, not the one he remembered.

"You know that I'm not going to fall for that crap, right?" Thomas stated. "That guy you were talking to is a liar, just like you are."

"Thomas, what happened to you?" Robert asked him.

"Ask yourself. You made me this way. It's all your fault." He had a bitter expression on his face.

Robert sighed and shook his head. "You're not here. This isn't real."

"See, that's what you keep thinking, but you know it's not true. You know that I'm here and that I won't leave until you've suffered enough," Thomas said. He sounded like a mad man.

"Why do I need to suffer!" Robert screamed. "What did I ever do to hurt you?"

Thomas laughed but Robert knew that he didn't mean it. "You ruined me. You fucked me up. It's your fault that I ended up being depressed."

Robert kneeled before him, not knowing why. "No, Thomas. That's not true and you know that. You know that it all started when David died."

"You know about that?" Thomas asked, still not looking any less bitter.

He nodded. "Mario told me," Robert whispered. "You should've told me, Tom. I wouldn't have hated you." For a second, he thought that Thomas was his normal self again, but that thought disappeared when Thomas stood up, seeming angry to Robert.

"Why are you lying to me? Is that what your profession is? You keep lying to people and eventually break them. That's what you did to me. You hurt me." He said the last part pointing at Robert. "You hurt me so bad that I couldn't be fixed."

"I would never want to hurt you," Robert said, shocked.

Now tears appeared in Thomas' eyes. "Stop lying! Stop saying these things. I know that you don't mean it."

Robert found it quite odd that the roles were reversed. Now Thomas was the vulnerable one, and Robert was the one that had 'tormented' him. Why would Thomas even think that?

"Thomas, you know I love you. You heard me talking at the graveyard. You heard me talking to you."

"I know you were lying." A small tear fell on his jeans. "You don't care about me."

"How can I prove that I _do_ care about you, Thomas? What can I do?" Robert begged. He knew he needed to stay strong, but seeing Thomas like this broke him down. A sign of his weakness.

"I-I don't know," Thomas whispered.

Robert was quite shocked by his answer. He would've expected something like: "For you to suffer", but he didn't say that. Thomas didn't know. Thomas didn't know what Robert could do to make amends.

That's when the old Thomas came back.

"Thomas, even though you don't believe me," Robert began, seeing Thomas softly crying, "but I ensure you, I care about you. I never wanted this to happen to you and I know I should've shown you more that there was someone that cared about you. But I can't turn back time. I can't go back and fix all the mistakes I've made. I don't mind though, we learn from mistakes and mistakes make us to who we are today."

Thomas didn't respond to that, and deep inside Robert kept thinking of the possibility that Thomas might afflict him again, but he kept believing in him.

"And I know that you regret some things as well, Tom," he continued. "You were just too late to realise that making mistakes is okay. It's what makes you human. You need to learn how to live with those mistakes, otherwise you'll never find peace. The only key to being perfect is to accept your imperfections."

Thomas looked up. "I know," he whispered. "But it's too hard."

"Then let me help you." Robert smiled at him. "Let me help you find your peace."

Thomas waited at first, but then he slowly nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Thomas," Robert said. "You thought that dying was the only cure for your misery and now you're still hurt."

"I'm such an idiot," Thomas replied, shaking his head. "It was my misery and I dragged you into it."

"Don't worry about that," Robert said. "Please, don't. I don't want you to be sad again. You thought you were released from this burden, now--"

"But what if I'm the burden, Lewy? What if it's all my fault? I must've done something to feel so miserable, right? You didn't deserve to be dragged into it and it happened anyway." Multiple tears formed in his eyes. Robert was glad that the real Thomas was back, but seeing him hurt again made the gladness vanish.

"Thomas, listen to me," Robert said, looking in his eyes. "You didn't drag me into your misery, I already had my own."

"W-what?" the other whispered.

"Remember when we were at Neuer's?" He waited for Thomas to nod, and when he did, Robert continued, "Manuel and Bastian knew me, right?" Thomas nodded again. "They knew me because I was going to a therapist. Manuel knew me for five years because I had been going to him for five years."

Thomas didn't seem to understand it. "But why would you go to a therapist?"

"Because..." It was too hard for Robert to say, but he knew that it would be able to help Thomas. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to relive those days again. "Because my brother killed someone." Those words came out with a lot of effort and hesitation, but for some reason Robert felt relieved after he had said it.

Thomas stayed silent for a moment and Robert didn't know if that was good or bad.

"What happened?" Thomas asked hesitantly.

"My brother had always been a bit of a troubled kid. He would always get detention in school, but mostly for just innocent things, not too bad. Yet one day he went too far." Robert sighed. "He was with his friends - also troublemakers - and went to the pier. There was this little boy... His mother was making a phone call, and didn't look at her child. She didn't even notice that my brother and his friends were approaching." Robert could feel that there were tears in his eyes. He didn't know exactly why the death made him feel so bad. It was what happened after that was even worse.

"My brother pushed that kid in the water. At first his friends thought it was funny, but they changed their minds when they saw that the kid couldn't swim. My brother threw rocks at him. The head of that poor boy began to bleed and then he drowned." Robert shook his head. "When I heard what happened... I couldn't believe it. One day the doorbell rang and there he stood, accompanied by two policemen. I'd never been so disappointed in my life. My mum and dad weren't home so I was all alone, uhm--"

"Don't worry, Robert, you don't have to tell me," Thomas said. "I understand."

Robert decided to ignore him, and moved on. "I said that they should take him to the police station, I didn't defend him whatsoever. That was the last time I saw him. The next day, my parents were informed and got extremely mad at me for not defending my brother. They said: 'What if he's innocent?' Or: 'What if one of his stupid friends blamed him?' But I wasn't that naive, I knew that my brother did it, I could see it in his eyes." He wiped away his tears, avoiding eye contact with Thomas.

"My parents kicked me out of the house and told me I wasn't their son anymore. They did everything they could to make my brother a free man again, but lost. He's still in prison and I don't know about my parents." That was when Robert finally looked at Thomas, whom was staring at him and didn't lose his gaze until he began to speak.

"We've known each other for two years. Why didn't you tell me?" Thomas asked, still surprised. "I could've helped you."

"When I met you, I began to realise that I shouldn't dwell on the past, but focus on the present and even though you didn't know it yourself, you've helped me a bit. We did all those fun things together and I finally felt like I mattered."

"You've always mattered to me," Thomas whispered. "You've always been the one I was closest to. I should've known that there was something going on, but you always seemed so happy."

"I guess I'm a good actor," he said with a forced smile.

"I'm really sorry about your brother, Robert," Thomas whispered. "But as you said, dwelling on the past won't get us anywhere." Robert didn't know where Thomas' sudden confidence came from, but he liked it.

"I know," Robert answered. "It's just that--" His mobile phone rang, and he walked to the table again. It was Manuel. He picked up and turned around, seeing that Thomas wasn't there anymore.

"Better be good, Manu," Robert said, a bit annoyed because Thomas was gone.

"I just wanted to make sure that you're okay. I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm fine," he added, however not meaning it.

"You can tell me the truth," Manu answered.

"I am telling the truth." He paused for a moment. "Is that all you wanted to know?"

"I just want to make sure that you're okay. My door's always open. You can stop by whenever you want."

"Thanks, bye," Robert said impatiently, not really listening to the words which were spoken into his ear.

"Bye, Robe--" Robert hung up, not letting Manuel finish his sentence.

Thomas didn't come back. Robert waited for so long but he didn't come back. He had called for him, begged for him to come back. After those five years, he felt like Thomas was with him again, as if he had never left. But that feeling was gone now. Robert thought that Thomas would never come back again.

He looked at his clock; it was almost midnight. An empty feeling was dominant inside of him, as if he was missing something. Well, someone. He missed Thomas so much suddenly that he began to feel insane. Just being able to talk to him after five years made him feel vivid again. But now Thomas was gone again, and Robert didn't know if he'd come back.

"Thomas, where are you?" Robert cried. "Come back!"

He began to laugh in frustration, something he had never done before. He could feel that tears wanted to leave his body but he refused to let them break him down again.

Suddenly, his sight was focused on only one object, a photograph of Thomas and Robert together. He walked toward it and picked it up. They were sitting on the swings together on Marco's birthday. Marco had a little sister that loved the swings, but Robert knew that Marco loved it too.

Thomas and he were laughing. It wasn't even under the influence of alcohol, they were genuinely having fun.

He placed the photograph onto the dresser again with a smile. He missed that Thomas. He loved that Thomas. He'd do anything to bring him back.

He yawned, knowing that he had to sleep. But he also knew that he would think about Thomas when he'd close his eyes, meaning that he wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

"You're not going to say goodnight to me, are you?" Robert spoke. No answer came, just like he had expected. He made an attempt to walk upstairs but stopped abruptly when he heard a voice.

"If you really want me to."

It was Thomas. Robert turned around immediately and looked into a pair of kind blue eyes. Robert felt a smile coming up, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

"You're here," he whispered.

Thomas nodded, and smiled as well. "I am," he replied. Robert wanted to grab his hand, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to feel his hand, only the cold.

"Are you feeling better?" Robert asked instead.

Thomas sighed, "I'm happy when I look at you from up there," he said whilst pointing at up above.

"I'm happy when you're here," Robert whispered. It felt like it used to feel, the two of them just being together and talking about nothing.

Thomas broke into Robert's thoughts. "Robert, I need to tell you something," he told the latter.

"What's going on?" Robert was scared; he didn't know what to expect. What if Thomas didn't like him or wanted to spend time with him?

"When..." It was as if he didn't even know where to start, which turned out to be true. "If, uhm..."

"Tom, what is it?" Robert tried not to show the other his impatience.

"We won't be able to talk to each other when I find my peace," he said, avoiding eye contact with Robert.

Robert thought it was a joke, Thomas was joking. That would be the only possible explanation, right?

Right?

His brain took sides, one part knew that it would be okay if Thomas were happy, but the other part didn't want to stop talking to Thomas. What would he do when Thomas was gone again? He already felt miserable but being able to talk to Thomas and see the latter made him feel better. That would all be gone if Thomas found peace.

"Robert?"

He looked up, feeling that his emotions controlled him. Uncountable what ifs filled his mind.

"Robert, are you okay?" Thomas asked him in concern. He genuinely seemed concerned. It warmed Robert's heart but broke it at the same time, knowing that Thomas would never concerned about him anymore.

"I'm fine," he whispered, it didn't sound too convincing but he couldn't do anything to stop it.

"I knew that you'd react like that. Lewy, I don't want you to be upset. Please." Thomas approached him, but Robert recoiled. He knew that letting Thomas in would be the worst idea possible. His blood was replaced by agonising vertigo, and he sat down on the stairs, his head placed in his shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," Thomas whispered. "I knew that I would just disappoint you again. It's what I do, it's what I've always done..."

Robert looked up immediately, seeing the hurt in Thomas' face. "No, don't say that. I just... I just don't know if I can get used to not being able to talk to you again."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I shouldn't have come back at all," Thomas fired back. "I should've just left you alone."

Robert shook his head. "You know that I care about you, Thomas. You know that I care enough to let you rest in peace. I would never take something like that away from you."

Thomas didn't seem to understand what Robert was trying to say. "What are you implying?"

"This will be the last time we ever see each other again. I don't want any more contact. I don't want you to wander around here. I want you to find peace and rest." Robert said those words without looking the other in the eye, curious and scared of what he might think.

Thomas didn't speak for a moment, repeating the words in his mind over and over again.

_I don't want any more contact._

Reluctantly, he nodded. "I get it," he whispered. "But I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye."

"Me neither," Robert replied with a broken voice.

And a broken soul.

"I'll still watch you every day, Lewy. So don't do anything weird," Thomas joked. He always did that; joke to make a situation easier. Robert smiled, and so did the other.

"I promise," he whispered, still smiling softly. He really meant it.

Thomas sighed. "You know why I haven't found peace yet?"

The older man realised suddenly that he didn't know that. He had never asked him. He was eager to know, but also a bit scared. "No, I don't."

"It's because I haven't told something to a very special someone." Thomas seemed a bit uncomfortable with saying those words, and Robert wondered why.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"About what you told me at the graveyard, Lewy. You told me that you loved me and that you regret not telling me."

Robert could feel that his face was reddening. "Yeah, I remember that," he whispered.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing."

Robert looked up. "What?"

"I love you."

Then in only a blink, his best friend was gone. The person he loved most in this world had vanished, as if he'd gained invisibility powers. It was the end, he would never see Thomas again. He wanted to scream out his name with all air he had stuck in his lungs, but he couldn't. He couldn't scream because he realised that Thomas was finally better again.

He stared at the place where Thomas stood for a while, not moving. He only concentrated on his breathing. Inhaling the air and exhaling it.

A warm feeling of satisfaction entered his body; he knew that Thomas was happy now, and that was all that mattered. Thomas was finally happy after suffering for a long time, after going through agonising depression. And the latter being happy again was all that Robert could wish for.

Thus he walked upstairs. He entered his bedroom and felt the cool wind blowing through the room. He closed his window and curtains and lay down on his bed. The soft mattress met his body and Robert felt something he hadn't felt in years; genuine comfort.

Being able to see Thomas made him happy, but that Thomas wasn't the real one. So knowing that he had finally found peace was transcendent. He loved every bit of Thomas and all he wanted was for him to be happy, even if that meant he wouldn't see him ever again.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep with a warm smile covering his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, don't kill me xD. I didn't expect it to be so long but I had a lot of fun writing this which probably makes me a psycho but oh well. Anyway, thank you for reading!


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